Chapter 9: Trouble

“Oh, my God, that was incredible,” said Buffy, pushing her plate away and dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. “I think that’s the best meal I’ve ever had.”

“Well, you’ve gotta have dessert,” Jacob replied, hoping to stretch the evening out as much as possible. “The arroz con leche is amazing.”

“Oh, I really should –” Buffy cut off her protest when Jacob gave her a tempting eyebrow-wiggle. She relented and smiled at him. “Okay. Let me just check in with Dawn.”

She pulled her cell phone out of her purse, mentally congratulating herself for remembering to bring it, and speed dialed the house number. As the phone rang a third, then a fourth time, she furrowed her brow.

“Everything okay?” Jacob asked, seeing her concerned expression.

Buffy pursed her lips. “No one’s picking up.”

*****

Spike shook his head and charged, tackling the demon back towards the doorway. Buffy’d been a little prickly about expenses of late – best to keep the structural damage to a minimum. He landed on the back porch with the demon in a bear hug. The thing was covered in thick, hard scales, which would make hitting more painful for Spike than for the demon, and it had huge spines on its back that punctured the wooden porch beneath them. They rolled, the spines ripping up planks as they went, and Spike was momentarily squished until he was rolled back on top again. The demon heaved him over its head, and Spike went flying over the porch railing to land facedown on the grass.

It took him a moment to realize the demon wasn’t coming after him, but rather had lumbered back into the kitchen. Spike scrambled up and chased it. He was about to leap onto its back, but thought better of it once he got a good look at the large dorsal extensions, each of which ended in a sharp point. He really wasn’t in the mood to get impaled on a demon.

He peered around the huge figure to where Dawn was standing in the entryway to the living room, a surprised expression on her face.

“Weapons, Dawn! Move!”

She obeyed, dashing to Buffy’s weapons chest behind her while Spike dove for the demon’s ankles and pulled its legs out from under it. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the battle-axe Dawn was holding out for him. With all his might, he swung the axe and neatly sliced off the demon’s head. It rolled to a stop in the corner as greenish goo seeped from the severed neck.

“Buffy is gonna be so pissed…” Dawn told him. Spike just rolled his eyes and choked up his grip on the axe.

“Uh, Spike?” Dawn said nervously, looking past him at the demon just as the phone started ringing.

“Better answer the phone. Could be your –”

“No, Spike. Look out!”

Spike felt himself being lifted off the floor by his neck. He glanced over his shoulder, and out of the corner of his eye saw the now-headless demon standing there, holding him a foot off the ground. “Bugger.”

He left an imprint on the wall, a vaguely Spike-shaped dent with a large crack down the middle. He came to rest on the ground still gripping the axe. From somewhere in the living room, Dawn squealed as the demon came toward her. Spike picked himself up and rushed the demon again.

“The spines!” Dawn shrieked. “Go for the spines!”

He did, hacking away at the demon’s back with the axe. It let out a hideous cry before collapsing on the floor in a puddle of green goo. “That’s gonna stain the carpet,” Spike muttered, while Dawn answered the still-ringing phone.

“Yeah, Buffy, everything’s fine here,” she assured her sister, eyeing the dead demon.

When she hung up the phone, Spike was glaring at her. “The spines, eh? Couldn’t have mentioned that sooner?”

“Sorry.” Dawn shrugged. “I didn’t think of it.”

Spike nodded to the carcass on the floor. “Guess I better drag this thing outside.”

When he came back in, his attention was drawn to his baby-sitting charge by the distinct odor of nail polish. He followed his nose to find Dawn sitting in front of the TV, slathering her fingertips with a lurid shade of hot pink. “Careful,” he warned. “Sis’ll kill you if you spill that.”

Dawn glanced down at the green demon gunk still on the floor then back up at Spike.

“Right,” he said, following her eyes. He had to admit, he was kind of impressed. Not every teenage girl could face down a demon and be calmly painting her nails only a few minutes later. She was a Summers woman, all right.

She gestured to the TV remote and then wiggled her fingers at him. “Can’t touch. Put something on?”

Spike obliged and flipped through the channels until he found a decent movie. The Lost Boys. Eighties vampire gangs. He smirked and settled back on the sofa.

Dawn stared at him with disapproval. “Spiiiike,” she said, drawing his name out to at least three syllables. He tried to keep his expression stony, but her puppy-dog eyes won him over and he relented. Turning back to the TV, he continued flipping until she told him to stop.

“What is this bollocks?”

“Bring It On.”

Spike scoffed. “The cheerleader movie? Don’t think so, pet.”

“My house.”

“Buffy left me in charge.”

“Fine, then I’ll tell her you let the demon in.” She just stared him down again until he rolled his eyes and sighed. Who was he kidding? He was a total pushover when it came to her.

Dawn finished her second coat of polish and blew on her fingernails to dry them. Glancing at Spike’s hands resting in his lap, she noticed that his own black polish had chipped off almost completely.

“Hey, can I do yours, too?” She gestured to his fingers.

Spike studied his nails for a moment. “Sure, long as you don’t use that horrid pink color.”

“Black?”

He nodded. Dawn wrinkled her nose. “I think Buffy has some.” She dashed upstairs to check, and as soon as she was out of sight, Spike grabbed the remote and flipped the channel back to the vampires.

Dawn hardly seemed to notice when she came back, focusing on her task instead of the TV. She took his long, slender hands in hers and began meticulously coating the nails with polish one by one. She chattered on about school and her friends as she worked, keeping up an incessant stream of teenage gossip that Spike found endearing, even as he tuned her out. Occasionally, she would trail off, the movie drawing her attention for a few minutes before she resumed her train of thought.

“Kiefer Sutherland makes a hot vampire,” she remarked, capping the pot of nail polish and settling back on the sofa.

Spike pouted. “Hotter than me?” he asked, absently picking at his nails as soon as they were dry.

Dawn made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a giggle, and Spike shot her a dirty look.

“Hey!” She slapped his hand. “I just painted those for you!”

“They’re too neat, chicklet,” he replied, almost apologetic. “Gotta look manly, don’t I?”

Dawn rolled her eyes and inspected her own nails to make sure they hadn’t gotten messed up in the process of Spike’s manicure. After a thoughtful pause, she said, “Spike?”

“Mmmm?”

“Do you wish it was you?”

Spike turned away from the movie. “Do I wish what was me, Niblet?”

“The guy taking Buffy on dates.”

Spike marveled at her, not for the first time that night. She really was perceptive. They’d have to stop treating her like a kid one of these days. “Vampires don’t date, love.” He was jealous, when it came right to it, but he didn’t want to admit that, so he avoided the question. “Don’t really go in for the hearts and flowers nonsense.”

“You’re still in love with her, though, right?”

“Always. Why d’you ask?”

Dawn looked at him, her head tilted in perfect imitation of him. “I was just kinda worried, you know. If you’re not in love with Buffy, you might stop coming around.”

Spike sighed and put his arm around her. “I’d never stop coming around to see you, Bit.” He grinned. “’Less your sister put a stop to it, then we’d have to sneak around behind her back, yeah?”

Dawn giggled conspiratorially, but then resumed her seriousness. “Xander says you’re using me to get to Buffy.”

“Xander’s a lunkhead, ’s what he is. Didn’t I take care of you all that time we thought Buffy wasn’t coming back?” Dawn nodded. “Don’t you worry, pet. You’ll always be my girl.” He tightened his grip on her and started to tickle. She squealed and tried to squirm out of his grasp, to no avail. “And you’re a tasty treat!” he added, playfully malevolent as he vamped out and bared his fangs.

It didn’t scare her at all. Not surprising, considering that a demon attacking her baby-sitter didn’t even faze her. She merely continued to giggle and protect her ticklish spots, until Spike’s head snapped up.

“You hear that?” He slid out of his game face and brought his tickle attacks to a halt.

“What?” Dawn used the opportunity to scramble out of reach, just in case he pounced again.

“Car door. Slayer’s home.”

Dawn’s eyes widened. “You heard that?”

“Vampire hearing, pigeon. Now get on up to bed before she comes in or you’ll get us both in trouble.” He shooed her upstairs with a swat of his hand, then cocked his head, extending his senses to listen to the sounds from outside.

He could hear them coming up the walk – slow, meandering footsteps that matched soft, easy conversation, then the sound of laughter, probably on the porch. Then the talking stopped. Spike opened the door to see Buffy spring away from Jacob, her hand instinctively flying up to her mouth, concealing her kiss-swollen lips. Spike swallowed back bile.

“Spike!” Buffy’s eyes flashed daggers at him.

“Spike?” Jacob looked from Buffy to the vampire in her doorway, confused. “Uh, what are you…?”

“Been minding Dawn while Buffy was out.” He looked at the Slayer and held up his hand. “Painted my nails, she did. Woulda done my hair and makeup, too, if I’da let her.”

“Well, you know, teenage girl,” she replied with a tight smile. Spike could tell from her tone of voice that she was annoyed and trying to hide it.

“Isn’t Dawn a little old for a baby-sitter?” asked Jacob.

“Buffy’s real protective. What with her mum gone and all, she’s gotta look out for the Bit.”

Jacob looked confused again. “That’s what he calls Dawn,” Buffy explained.

“Oh.” Jacob nodded slowly. “You’ve just got a nickname for everybody, don’t you?” He’d called Buffy something funny, too, when they ran into him at the Bronze on their first date.

Spike just leered at him in response, studying the boy carefully. He hadn’t really had a good opportunity to do so during their previous meetings. Jacob was very tanned, Spike noted with a hint of bitterness, with a mop of dark curly hair that flopped over his forehead – much like Spike’s own hair would do if he didn’t tame it with heaps of products. He had piercing blue eyes, and Spike wondered briefly if his own eyes looked like that. It had been so long since he’d seen them.

Before he could ponder any further, Buffy clearly decided she’d had enough and moved to close the door. “Okay, Spike, I’m just gonna say goodnight to Jacob out here, and I’ll be inside in a minute, okay?” She shut the door on Spike before he had a chance to respond. She turned to Jacob. “I’m sorry, I – I forgot he’d be here.” It was true. She’d ended up having such a good time, she completely forgot about the prickly nature of her sitter.

“It’s okay,” Jacob said, with a tender smile. The moment effectively ruined, he settled for giving her a last quick kiss on the lips and headed down the steps. “Goodnight, Buffy.”

Buffy saw Spike scurry away from the window when she opened the door, and she made a mental note to have Willow or Xander stay with Dawn the next time she went out with Jacob. She didn’t care if Dawn liked him; Spike was trouble.

“How was your date, then?” he asked casually, but Buffy’s eyes were already wide, as she took in the damage left by the demon.

“What… the hell… happened here?”

“Demon. Spiny. Green goo,” Spike summarized. “Killed it.”

“Is Dawn okay?” He saw the worry flash across her eyes.

“She’s fine. Better call the carpenter, though. You’re, uh, gonna need it.” He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as she stared at the crack in the wall.

“Anything else?” she asked, her voice edged with exasperation.

“Uh, back door.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “And the porch could use a patching up.” He figured it was a bad time to mention the demon carcass in the backyard. Maybe they’d get lucky and it would disintegrate eventually.

Buffy sighed and rubbed her forehead with one hand, trying to ward off the headache that had started threatening as soon as she walked in the door. “Great.”

“You’re welcome.” A little gratitude wouldn’t kill the girl, he thought. Sure, messed up the house a bit, but he saved her little sister from being demon food, right?

“Yeah, thanks,” she replied, distracted.

Spike resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her utter lack of sincerity. “I’m gonna have a go-round before heading home. Feeling the need to kill something. You game?”

Buffy shook her head. “Nah, I think I’ll just head to bed. You have fun, though.”

Spike’s shoulders slumped a little as she started up the stairs. Even if she was an ungrateful little chit, he’d been hoping for some time with her. Why should Jacob get all the fun? But, as usual, he just ended up leaving the house disappointed and craving some violence.